


The Redemption of the Bastard of Arthur Dayne

by jesuisbree



Series: The True Sword of the Morning [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisbree/pseuds/jesuisbree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“It’s good to see you again. Even if we had to meet so unexpectedly and with your blade so quickly poised at my throat,” he said, a wry smile curling his lips. Ayleth merely nodded once and made to leave the room once more, not trusting herself or her emotions if she stayed much longer in the room alone with Jaime. The smile fell as quickly as it came as he stared at her back, wondering why she was acting this way with him—so distant and cold.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>She paused just before the metal, filigree doorway and glanced over her shoulder at him, bottom lip between her teeth before she spoke. “I am glad you managed to get here unscathed and that Obara did not manage to land a strike upon you,” she said softly before turning fully to him once more. Her eyes held a sense of urgency and anxiety that Jaime likened to the look she wore when they met the second time in Kings Landing, when she had been escorting Prince Oberyn through the halls of the Red Keep. “Stay vigilant, Ser Jaime, for you’ve been thrown into a pit of snakes. I’m sure with your keen mind you can figure out just what Oberyn’s daughters wanted today and you just so happen to bear a last name that is…frowned upon in these parts of Westeros.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Water Gardens were bathed in sunlight, a pleasant breeze blowing off of the Summer Sea and providing a bit of relief from the bright sun above. It rustled through the lush foliage, the beautiful, fragrant flowers, and caused the trees to bend and sway. There was something off about the day and many in the Water Gardens could feel it; good or bad, there was no way that they could tell. But, they did know, without a doubt, that there would be something happening today.

“Oh, how beautiful the garden looks today, Trystane,” Princess Myrcella said softly, her arm looped through Prince Trystane’s as they strolled the perimeter of the gardens under the shade of a colonnade of arches. The Prince studied the blonde beauty on his arm with a smile, eyes never leaving her. 

“Yes, it’s quite beautiful,” he said in a voice that made Princess Myrcella turn to him and shoot him a look before a wide grin curled her lips and she merely shook her head.

“I think I’d quite like to spend the rest of the afternoon out here,” the princess said softly, turning her gaze from Trystane and looking out over the gardens once more. The young Dornish prince kept his eyes on her, his amber gaze traveling over her pretty, petite features. He drew in a deep breath of air before turning that gaze to the guard behind them; his guard, his sworn sword.

“Might we have a few moments alone, Lady Ayleth?” He questioned the dark-haired, violet-eyed woman who was deliberately keeping her eyes from the two until the moment her name was spoken. She was following behind them, far enough to give them space but close enough that she could get to them quickly, if she needed to. Her eyes snapped to his before glancing over to Princess Myrcella, wanting to gauge if she were not uncomfortable with the idea of being with the prince alone. The Princess was wearing a small, sheepish smile and Ayleth felt the corners of her mouth pulling upward as well, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

“Just a few moments, my Prince,” she said softly, giving him a small nod, “but do not stray too far out of earshot. Prince Doran implored me to be especially vigilant in regards to the two of you. I’m sure he does not want another episode like the one on the beach to happen again.” Ayleth gave them a humored look and the Prince and Princess glanced bashfully to each other. They’d given the guards and Ayleth a fit when they had disappeared from their view by the Summer Sea and were found in the gardens. Princess Myrcella swore up and down that she was feeling a bit sunburnt and only wanted a moment’s reprieve from the sun, but she did not fool Lady Ayleth or Prince Doran.

Prince Trystane and Princess Myrcella made to step away from Ayleth, but Myrcella sent the older woman a look before looking back to the dark-haired youth beside her.

“Give me a moment with Lady Ayleth, Prince Trystane, and I’ll be right with you,” Myrcella said. Trystane glanced between the two of them before nodding and stepping out from the shadow of the colonnade and into the sunlight, out into pristine gardens.

Princess Myrcella stepped over to Ayleth and took one of her hands in both of hers dainty, delicate ones and offered the raven-haired she-warrior a warm smile.

“Are you well this morning, Lady Ayleth?” Myrcella asked softly. Ayleth drew in a breath of air, watching the young woman closely. “If I may be honest, you don’t look like you got much rest last night and this morning you looked…beside yourself.” Ayleth noted the careful look in the girl’s green eyes, the concern twisting her brow and a sigh left her. Myrcella was probably closest with Ayleth in all of the Water Gardens, second only to Trystane. In fact, Myrcella confided in her that she was the only woman she had talked to since Ellaria returned with Oberyn’s body. Their daughters immediately shunned Myrcella, along with Ellaria, and if it weren’t for Trystane she would have been completely alone. Then, Ayleth arrived, after having traveled months by herself, and the Princess found another companion. 

Ayleth managed a small, reassuring smile for Myrcella and nodded once. “I will be fine, Princess,” she responded quietly, giving her hand a small squeeze. “Though, it is very sweet of you to be concerned. I was…consumed by my thoughts last night,” she explained, nodding once though her smile did not falter. Myrcella still did not look completely convinced by her words, her mouth pressing into a line for a moment before she blew out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know how long it may take, Lady Ayleth, but it should get better for you…in time at least. You’ve suffered a great loss,” Myrcella soothed. Ayleth merely nodded once more, not fully trusting herself to speak. “If you wished, I could take a walk with Prince Trystane later and accompany you back to your room,” the Princess said softly. Ayleth’s smile grew slightly at Princess Myrcella’s words, finding herself growing more and more fond of the beautiful young woman every day. She was nothing like her mother and Ayleth was terribly thankful for that.

“There’s no need for that, Princess Myrcella,” Ayleth said softly, “Don’t you worry too much over me. Now, go enjoy this weather with Prince Trystane.” Myrcella gripped Ayleth’s hand tighter for a moment before nodding once and turning, presumably to find Prince Trystane. Ayleth followed behind her slowly, keeping her eyes on her until she rejoined the Prince when she turned her back to them and conveniently hid behind a tall tree. Ayleth whole-heartedly agreed with their betrothal, since it only took her a day to realize that the two loved each other deeply—something that rarely happened with arranged marriages. 

It had been a long journey, from her escape at Kings Landing to her arrival in Sunspear. The path she had taken was perilous, but not from any danger that was sent her way from Kings Landing. In fact, she wasn’t even sure search parties had even been sent to find her—she never encountered any, at least. Still, she had a couple of run-ins with rogue groups of men, most of whom were dead now by her blade, and she had a nice long scar from the bottom of her ear lobe, down her jaw, around her chin, and up to barely touch her bottom lip from an encounter with one particularly nasty man. The fresh skin was silvery white and taut and it pulled awkwardly at the skin around it at times. 

Months had gone by in the time Ser Jaime Lannister had freed her from the Black Cells and the time she arrived to Sunspear. Ellaria had already arrived with Oberyn’s body and he had already been interred into the dirt. Thankfully, this helped her when it came to approaching Prince Doran. Ayleth immediately thought the man was going to either send her back to Kings Landing as justice for her failing Prince Oberyn, but Prince Doran had been merciful. He knew that Oberyn had willingly volunteered to defend Tyrion and, ultimately, avenge their sister Elia. The man did not pass any blame to Ayleth and made it clear that he was proud of what she had done—he would hide her away in the Water Gardens. No one was to speak of her presence unless Lannister men themselves came to him and asked in regards to her. However, with the unexpected death of Tywin Lannister, it seemed those Lannister men may never show up. Ayleth, in shock of what Prince Doran had done and as thanks for his mercy, swore her sword to protecting Prince Trystane and, since Princess Myrcella was his betrothed, she was sworn to protect her as well.

Ayleth was ever thankful for Prince Doran’s graciousness and it gave her a new purpose in life. She would never allow herself to fail another Dornish prince, so long as she still drew breath. Myrcella was right, she’d was restless with grief and it kept her up at night, but she never would allow her mourning to affect the way she would protect the young prince and princess. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Trystane and Myrcella stealing deeper into the gardens and Ayleth tracked them from afar. She spotted them moving to a stone colonnade in the middle of the gardens, next to a small burbling pond that lay beside it. It was hard to hear them over it with the few fountains around the gardens, so she made note to stay extra attentive.

She had all but forgone the royal purple and silver of the Dayne’s, as she didn’t want to bring more attention to the fact she was who she was. Instead, she wore the Martell orange guard’s uniform, though some alterations had been made to it. Instead of the light fabric armor most of the guards wore, Doran insisted on her wearing light leather armor that fit her close. He knew her fighting style and knew that too much fabric that wasn’t close-fitting would just get in her way. Still, she resembled the Martell guards enough that no one would question her loyalty to them, she was just a bit more protected.

Her hands found the pommel of the blades at her side, one sword rolled, black Dornish steel and the other, Dawn, her ever faithful companion. Things had grown quiet between Trystane and Myrcella and a crooked grin curled her mouth. She knew that the betrothed couple favored being affectionate without pushing boundaries. Besides, it was only a matter of time before the two were wed and then they would be free to do whatever they wished. Purposefully not looking over in their direction, she kept her eyes ahead, instead relying on her sense of hearing to remain attentive. She drew in a deep breath of air, hearing muffled voices come from the small enclosure that did not belong to Prince Trystane or Princess Myrcella. Her head snapped in their direction, spying what appeared to be two guards stopped in front of them.

Ayleth’s heart leapt into her throat, the need to protect overwhelmed her, and she quickly rounded the hedgerow of bushes she had hidden behind. As she approached the four, she noticed Myrcella speaking hurriedly with one of them. All four sets of eyes flashed to her as she stepped up behind Trystane and Myrcella, hands now gripping the hilts of her blades. Her eyes landed on the guard in front of Myrcella and her world came to a screeching halt. The green eyes and face looking back at her belonged to none other than Ser Jaime Lannister. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes threatened to water up before she pushed the emotions aside and focused on the fact that they were unwelcome guests in the Water Gardens.

But before she could ask the men why they were here and why they were dressed as Dornish guards, the blue-eyed man beside Jaime spoke first. She took note of Trystane’s posture tensing slightly, hand twitching toward the blade at his side. “Let’s not do anything stupid,” he said, shooting Trystane a careful look. Ayleth kept her eyes on the man, body poised to react at a moment’s notice. In a flash, Trystane went to draw his sword and the man immediately landed a punch that had Trystane sprawling to the ground.

Ayleth drew one of her blades and immediately lifted it to the man’s neck, expression hard and angered. It wouldn’t kill Prince Trystane, but he’d probably be a bit sore come tomorrow. Myrcella let out a soft scream and knelt beside him, checking to make sure he was alright. The blue-eyed, dark haired man raised both hands in surrender, regarding Ayleth with a careful look. “You probably should have heeded your own advice,” the woman said in a low voice.

“We have to go, Myrcella, now,” Jaime said beside them and out of the corner of Ayleth’s eye she saw him grab Myrcella’s wrist. She immediately began to tug, trying to get away. With a sudden, untraceable movement, Ayleth had Dawn drawn and set at his neck, blade still singing from it’s quick departure from it’s sheath. Myrcella let out another scream, clearly conflicted over the well-being of her betrothed and her uncle. 

“Don’t make me do something I won’t like, gentlemen,” Ayleth said, eyes flickering between Jaime and the other man. Jaime has his eyes set on hers, a slightly betrayed look in those green eyes she had missed. As much as it would kill Ayleth if she ever had to hurt Jaime, she had sworn to protect Trystane and Myrcella, even if it meant protecting her from her own uncle. 

But before any of them had a chance to act, a whip cracked through the air and wrapped around Jaime’s wrist. Jaime and Ayleth shared a started look before Ayleth’s eyes swung to the three young women that stood behind them and a heavy sigh. Immediately she dropped her swords from the mens’ necks and stepped past the two of them, resting her sights on the three of them.

Jaime was quick to drop Myrcella’s hand and stepped away from both her and Trystane, driven further away from Bronn and Ayleth by another crack of the whip. With that, the three dressed in guards uniforms and the three dressed in brown leather armor began their fights. Ayleth knew who they were fighting against the minute she saw them and she wasn’t the least bit surprised. 

The blue-eyed man was paired up with Tyene, Ayleth was paired with Nymeria, and Jaime—which probably concerned Ayleth the most—was paired in a fight with Obara. Out of the three daughters of Oberyn, Obara was probably the most cunning and deadliest and the girl rarely even smiled, even before Oberyn’s death. Both Jaime and the blue-eyed man charged at their opponents, but Ayleth hung back. Out of all three weapons, the whip had the longest reach and, while not deadly, it could cause some damage and render her useless if Nymeria got enough hits in. Her main priority was protecting Trystane and Myrcella from this attack. She could wager that Jaime and the man he was with didn’t want to hurt the two of them, but the three girls, she couldn’t be so sure of.

Nymeria glared at Ayleth, the bottom half of her face hidden by a swath of cloth, and reeled back her arm, the end of her whip hissing against the pavers. Ayleth remained light on her feet, blades drawn and ready at her sides, and managed to divide her attention between the three bastard children of Oberyn. Nymeria cracked the whip at Ayleth’s feet and she was quick to step on it, before slamming her foot down on the rest of the whip and causing Nymeria to stumble forward a bit. Ayleth then charged at her, swinging both blades at her leg, but Nymeria quickly dodged, rolling away as she and Ayleth switched places. This gave Ayleth the advantage, as she now had both men and Trystane and Myrcella in sight. 

Jaime had been pushed nearly a hedgerow away from them all by Obara, but it looked like he was able to handle her. It looked like the man with him fought well too, giving Tyene a bit of a challenge. The two locked blades, Tyene’s two daggers to the man’s single blade, before they broke apart, sizing the other up. A heated flash of the whip cracked against Ayleth’s thigh and she let out a soft growl, her body jolting momentarily as she felt blood dripping down from the thin laceration along the top of her thigh. This hesitation allowed a moment for Tyene to seize an opportunity to jab her blade at Ayleth’s side. The she-warrior was quick to block it, but Tyene’s dagger slipped down the blade and skipped quickly across her leather bracer. The dagger sliced and dug into the skin just above her bracer, the edge of the blade lifting the skin and sliding further upward before Ayleth lifted her leg and kicked Tyene back. 

A short cry left her as the blade left her skin, trickles of blood rushing down her forearm and up under her bracer. Myrcella’s head shot in the woman’s direction, as she had been anxiously watching the six of them fighting and making sure Trystane was alright. The blue-eyed man charged at Tyene once more and Ayleth directed her attention to Nymeria, who had taken the opportunity when Ayleth was distracted with Tyene to grab Princess Myrcella and try to run after her. Ayleth was hot on their heels, teeth gritting against the pain in her leg and forearm.

The call for them to drop their weapons could not have come soon enough as Aero Hotah stopped in front of Nymeria and Myrcella, effectively blocking their escape. Footsteps sounded around them and guards soon were surrounding the eight of them.

“I am Obara Sand, daughter of Oberyn Martell—”

“I don’t think there’s a guard here that doesn’t know who you are, you silly girl,” Ayleth spat, blades poised at Nymeria’s back, but her gaze was locked on the girl. Obara’s venomous dark stare shot to Ayleth’s and she looked like she wanted to lunge at the woman, but did not go through with it.

“I fight for Dorne,” Obara continued, her gaze swinging back to Aero Hotah, “who do you fight for?” There were a few tense moments amongst them and Ayleth drew in a deep breath of air.

“Oberyn wouldn’t have wanted this, Obara,” Ayleth said in a gentle voice and Obara’s eyes shot to hers once more, upper lip curling slightly.

“How would you know? You failed him,” she spat and Ayleth felt a cold sort of anger roiling in her. 

“You’re right, I did fail him,” Ayleth said as she lowered her blades from Nymeria and rounded on Obara, striding past Jaime with out a second glance. “I watched as his skull caved in and his brains scattered to the stones beneath him while I did and could do nothing to save him. So, don’t try to bring up what I already know and use it against me,” she said, stopping just in front of Obara as she sheathed her blades.  Obara looked like she wanted to hit Ayleth, but with a couple of lances pointed in her direction, she figured that wouldn’t be the smartest idea. “But this is not how he would have wanted his daughters to act in light of those events.” The two women stared each other down as the call to drop weapons was repeated and Oberyn’s daughters reluctantly threw their weapons down. 

“Take them,” Ayleth said resolutely, pausing for a moment as she met the gaze of the blue-eyed man and remembered the punch he delivered to her prince. “All of them,” Ayleth finished, shooting a glance over to Aero before stepping away from Obara. She risked a look over to Jaime, seeing the same betrayed look in his eyes. Ayleth looked away hurriedly as she stopped beside Myrcella, glancing over her once to make sure she had not been harmed.

“Are you alright, Princess?” She questioned, but before Myrcella could answer, Aero had stepped toward Jaime and swung his axe toward his neck. Myrcella couldn’t help but to grin slightly as Ayleth’s posture tightened and her hands twitched towards her blades as she watched the men closely, knowing quite well about how Ayleth felt about Jaime. 

“When you were whole, it would have been a good fight,” Aero taunted, his axe’s blade poised just at Jaime’s jaw. Ayleth felt anger rise in her once more at her words as she watched Jaime give a defeated sort of nod and drop his weapon before guards surrounded him. Ayleth glanced once more at him before turning her gaze back to Myrcella. The Princess merely gave her a terse nod before they both swept over to Prince Trystane, who looked like he was coming to after being knocked out. 

After Ayleth had seen that Prince Trystane was uninjured and safe and bandaged up her own wounds, she made her way to the nicer confinement that Jaime had been offered. The man he was with was not so lucky and was being contained in cells beneath the Water Gardens with Nymeria, Tyene and Obara. Before she got to his room, she noticed Myrcella sweeping out of the room and storming off in the opposite direction. Ayleth had only gotten a glimpse of her face, but she looked less than pleased and could only wonder what the two of them had discussed. The raven-haired woman hesitated just a moment outside of the doorway, drawing in a deep breath of air and steeling herself before stepping into the doorway. Jaime sat at a writing desk in the center of the room, his forehead resting in his palm and his eyes screwed shut.

She cleared her throat delicately, hands clasped in front of her. Jaime lifted his head suddenly, his angered gaze softening a bit when he laid eyes on the violet-eyed woman that had haunted him ever since she’d came into his existence.

“Are you finding your accommodations…comfortable, Ser Jaime?” She questioned, eyes locked on his as a cool feeling ran through Ayleth at the emotion in his eyes. His jaw clenched for a moment and he stood from the desk, taking a few paces toward her.

“I am, Lady Ayleth,” he said, betrayal flashing in his eyes once more and Ayleth lowered her gaze, blowing out a breath of air as she tried to calm herself. She felt terrible about how she had to react Jaime and the blue-eyed man, but she couldn’t let anyone know of her feelings for Jaime Lannister. Ellaria had probably told them all about how she was prior to Oberyn’s death, how she spent so much time with the Young Lion.

“They’re under my protection, both of them. I would not have reacted in such a way were they not my responsibility,” she explained softly, lifting her eyes to his once more. “I care deeply for both of them, Prince Trystane and Princess Myrcella.”

Jaime didn’t say anything, his eyes were roaming the strong woman in front of him. His emerald gaze traced the new scar along her jaw, noting just how much longer her hair had gotten in the time they had been apart. Her eyes held a scarred sort of look and it shook Jaime. She looked a little thinner than the last time they met, her cheeks slightly more drawn in, but other than that, completely healthy. 

“It’s good to see you again. Even if we had to meet so unexpectedly and with your blade so quickly poised at my throat,” he said, a wry smile curling his lips. Ayleth merely nodded once and made to leave the room once more, not trusting herself or her emotions if she stayed much longer in the room alone with Jaime. The smile fell as quickly as it came as he stared at her back, wondering why she was acting this way with him—so distant and cold.

She paused just before the metal filigree doorway and glanced over her shoulder at him, bottom lip between her teeth before she spoke. “I am glad you managed to get here unscathed and that Obara did not manage to land a strike upon you,” she said softly before turning fully to him once more. Her eyes held a sense of urgency and anxiety that Jaime likened to the look she wore when they met the second time in Kings Landing, when she had been escorting Prince Oberyn through the halls of the Red Keep. “Stay vigilant, Ser Jaime, for you’ve been thrown into a pit of snakes. I’m sure with your keen mind you can figure out just what Oberyn’s daughters wanted today and you just so happen to bear a last name that is…frowned upon in these parts of Westeros.”

Instead of Jaime replying, they merely shared a prolonged gaze, understanding shining in Jaime’s eyes. Ayleth merely nodded once more before leaving the room. Jaime shut his eyes once more, the faint smell of lavender and orchids washing over him as he let Ayleth’s cryptic warning sink in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus we begin the end of this series. Now, I have two endings in mind, happy or tragic, and I'm currently on the fence as to which one I want to do. I suppose time will tell which one I decide to go with. I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

 

Ayleth stood behind the couch that Prince Trystane and Princess Myrcella sat upon, her hands resting on the pommels of her blades as Ellaria Sand took a seat across from them. The two women shared a dark glance, Ayleth’s mouth tensing slightly before she looked away. Prince Trystane’s hand came to rest on his jaw and he heaved a sigh. He knew he could trust Ayleth to lay down her life for him, but he would never imagine her allowing him to be struck.

“Why did you let me get hit anyways?” He said, turning his head to look at Ayleth. She could feel Prince Doran’s eyes on her as well as she stared down at the young prince. Drawing in a deep breath of air, she strung together her answer in the wisest way possible before giving her answer.

“Prince Trystane, while my answer may not be the one you particularly like, you did draw your sword on the man. If you move to draw your weapon, my Prince, you have to prepared for someone to move faster than you,” she said truthfully, sparing a glance over to Prince Doran.

“Or maybe seeing the Young Lion again had clouded your judgement, like it had with Oberyn,” Ellaria seethed from her seat opposite of them. Ayleth merely raised a brow at the accusation, about to speak but Doran spoke before her.

“Quiet, Ellaria,” he commanded softly, shooting the woman a look that dared for her to do otherwise, “we are not here to discuss Lady Ayleth’s ability to protect my son. I have the utmost confidence in her capabilities.”

A few sets of footsteps echoed across the gold and white hall they were in, echoing against the high, domed ceiling above them. All eyes went to the golden-haired man, dressed in a more gold than orange jerkin, escorted into the room by Areo. Ayleth drew in a deep breath of air as her eyes locked with Jaime’s and she could feel Ellaria’s gaze burning holes into her profile. With a sharp exhale, Ayleth looked ahead and let her gaze drop for a moment before glancing over at Doran. He had his eyes on Jaime instead of her, and she was quite thankful for that.

“Prince Doran,” she heard Jaime say and her eyes flicked over to him once more to see him bow.

“Forgive us, we’ve started without you,” Prince Doran said, flourishing a hand toward the seat beside Ellaria. “Please, sit,” he finished, as the wine was being poured into their goblets.

“Princess Myrcella,” Jaime said, inclining his head to the blonde Princess across from him.

“Uncle,” she replied, managing a small, tight smile for him that quickly fell. 

“That’s a lovely dress,” Jaime commented, mimicking her smile for a moment.

“Do you not like it?” Myrcella questioned and Ayleth noticed Trystane’s gaze went to Myrcella, watching her closely.

“You must be cold,” her uncle replied, though his expression clearly said that he disagreed with her choice of dress, with so much of her shoulders and décolletage exposed.

“Not at all. The Dornish climate agrees with me,” she replied, an edge of test in her tone. Ayleth could see the corner of Trystane’s mouth twitch in a smirk before falling once more. Jaime’s gaze then went to the dark-haired young man beside her.

“Prince Trystane,” he said, his disapproval for the boy evident in his tone. Then, in an unexpected move, his eyes moved to Ayleth, who stood tall and proud behind Myrcella and Trystane. “Lady Ayleth,” he said with a nod. The woman from Starfall nodded in reply, not saying a word. Jaime then took a seat, clearly unaffected by the attention he was receiving from all in the room. He then returned his gaze to Trystane.

“How’s your jaw?” Jaime asked, clearly feigning like he was concerned with the Prince’s injury.

“A flea bite,” Trystane replied without missing a beat, staring proudly back at Jaime. Ellaria tapped her fingertips impatiently against the silver goblet in her grasp.

“What are you doing in Dorne?” She asked brusquely, setting her bright amber gaze on him. Jaime looked over at her, eying her carefully as he replied.

“Looking after the safety of my niece, the Princess Myrcella.” There was nary a beat in the room before Prince Doran spoke again.

“So, instead of sending a raven…or speaking to me directly, you decided to enter my country in secret and abduct our guest by force,” the Prince said, bright gaze focused on Jaime, who stared back bravely.

“We received a threatening message. The Princess’ necklace in the jaws of a viper,” his gaze then swung to Ellaria, who stiffened slightly at his words.

“That necklace was stolen from my room,” Princess Myrcella spoke softly. There was a moment of silence amongst them and Ayleth drew in a deep breath of air, eyes slipping to Prince Doran as he and Ellaria shared a look.

“I assure you, my Prince, this must have been before Prince Trystane and Princess Myrcella were under my protection,” she spoke, garnering the Prince’s attention.

“What protection? Tell me who you’ve protected,” Ellaria snapped and the women locked gazes once more. Ayleth cut her eyes at the snake-like woman, her words failing to make her angry. It was something that had been whispered behind her back since she had returned to Sunspear and something that she frequently thought about herself.

“Need I remind you, Ellaria, that I will treat an attack on Princess Myrcella in the same manner as an attack on Prince Trystane,” she said in a soft, calm voice that did not reflect the venom in her gaze. “You could have lost your daughter today…along with two of Oberyn’s children. I am under the impression that you may have been behind the attempted kidnapping of Princess Myrcella today.” Ellaria opened her mouth to say something but Ayleth kept talking. “Now, I can’t say for certain, which is why you’re here and not in the cells with Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene.” The former paramour of Oberyn looked livid, her eyes alight and her chest heaving. “You know how vigilant I was over Oberyn. Imagine how vigilant I will be over the Prince and his intended…especially now.” Ellaria cut her eyes at Ayleth before her amber eyes swung over to Jaime and Ayleth just knew she would not like what would come out of her mouth.

“Has she told you, Ser Jaime, that she had a child not a month after she arrived in Sunspear?” Ellaria said, turning to look over at the Lannister with a knowing grin. Ayleth stiffened suddenly, eyes growing watery as Jaime’s mouth fell open and his head turned sharply in Ayleth’s direction. She was watching him with a teary, apprehensive expression before she turned her violet eyes back to Ellaria. “Sad, little thing. Didn’t survive for very long.”

“How dare you? As a woman and a mother, how dare you?” She seethed, body suddenly becoming very warm and her head starting to spin as her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Oberyn wouldn’t have wanted you to become this,” she ground out through gritted teeth. Ellaria merely glanced back over at Ayleth, a victorious sort of grin on her lips as she took a sip of her wine.

“Enough, both of you. This is not the reason we are here today,” Doran snapped, eyes darting between the two women. He did a double take at the sight of blood slowly dripping from Ayleth’s nostril. The woman’s ferocious expression broke into one of shock as she felt the warm blood quickly trickle from her noise and into her mouth, lifting her hand to her nose and swiping away the blood, only for it to be quickly replaced. 

Ayleth was suddenly aware of all the blood rushing to her head, pressing out from the inside and causing her vision to go hazy. Her throat began to tighten and she could taste blood on her tongue. A soft rasp of a noise escaped her, trying to keep on her feet but suddenly the whole room was swaying. By now, all eyes had turned in her direction, if they hadn’t been focused on her before. “Lady Ayleth?” Princess Myrcella questioned softly, eyes wide with fear. The she-warrior felt her knees give way and her body pitched backwards, her back hitting the floor first before her head bounced to the stone floor. Jaime and Myrcella shot out of their seats, concern wrought on their similar features, but it was Ellaria who made it to Ayleth first as she began to groan and grip at her skull. She felt fevered, like flames were licking at the inside of her head, causing her thoughts to go all muddled and body to tense and tremble.

Ellaria shushed her softly, like a mother would a child, leaning down low over the woman as she rasped in air and secretly emptying the contents of the pendant of her necklace into Ayleth’s mouth as blood slowly dripped from her nostril down the side of her face. It took all of a few seconds for Ayleth’s expression to relax and the tension that had rapidly built in her bones and muscles to dissipate. A soft sigh left the woman, one that was mimicked by Trystane, Myrcella, and Jaime. Ellaria straightened up, shooting a worried, shifty glance around the room as she took a few steps back.

The she-warrior from Starfall was quick to try and sit up, wiping at the blood under her nose and on her cheek with the back of her hand. She shot a knowing look to Ellaria, violet eyes glittering and dark. Ellaria stepped away from the woman and took her seat again, keeping her eyes on the wine goblet that found it’s way back into her hand. Weakly, Ayleth slowly rose to her feet, bracing herself on the couch that Trystane and Myrcella sat on before she fully righted herself. Her expression was still of mixture of shock and fear, wondering what exactly had come over her. Ayleth’s violet gaze found the wound on her arm from Tyene and the woman quickly put it all into place. She glanced over to Jaime, seeing a fear in his eyes unlike one she had ever seen as she tried to wipe away the blood on her face once more with the tips of her fingers.

“Lady Ayleth,” Doran said softly, eyes never leaving the woman, “you are dismissed for the day to rest up. Clearly, you are not well. One of the guards will escort you back to your quarters.” Ayleth looked a bit defeated and hurt as she looked over at Prince Doran but nodded all the same as one of the guards stepped forward and took her elbow, easing the woman out of the room. She shot a glance to Myrcella, then to Jaime, before finally setting her gaze on Ellaria. She regarded the woman with another, lingering dark look before she left the room.

The meeting had adjourned after Jaime and Prince Doran had established their terms for Princess Myrcella’s return to Kings Landing, the continued betrothal of her and Prince Trystane, and establishing Prince Trystane’s position on the small council to bring Dorne into the fold. Trystane also had the blue-eyed man who had punched him, punched in a similar fashion as retribution for laying a hand on a Prince. Jaime was no longer seen as a prisoner or threat and was allowed to roam the Water Gardens, though there was never a guard too far from him.

 

__________________________

 

“It’s good to see you feeling better, Lady Ayleth,” Myrcella spoke as she stood beside Ayleth, who had changed from her normal guards attire and into a marigold colored dress of a loose, flowing fabric. “And your dress is quite lovely. It’s…weird to see you in something so…ladylike.” It fit quite similarly to Princess Myrcella’s dress, spare her’s fell low in the back to almost reach her hips where the young woman’s covered. Her hair was up and braided around the crown of her head and she was feeling quite better, physically, at least. It was still very clear that the woman was being eaten alive by her thoughts, hollowing her own and removing the bits of her that used to smile and laugh. 

“Thank you, Princess Myrcella,” she said before sparing a glance to Trystane, who was lounging on a chaise in the room and plucking absently at a lute, “and you, Prince Trystane. You both do not have to be here, but I do appreciate your company greatly.” Myrcella reached out and took both of the older woman’s hands in hers, gripping them tightly. Ayleth turned her eyes back to the Princess, who was suddenly wearing a serious expression.

“It was wrong of her to bring up the baby, very wrong. Especially in front of…” The Princess’ voice died off when she noticed Ayleth had looked away and was making it a point to keep her eyes locked on something out the window and in the distance. The tears that balanced on her eyelashes caused the Princess to sigh heavily, wanting nothing more for the woman to be happy. However, the tears never fell, though it looked like they might at any moment. Myrcella knew she had to do something and was cursing herself for bringing up Ayleth’s babe. “Let me play the song I wrote for you,” Myrcella suddenly said, stepping away from Ayleth and gently taking the lute from Trystane’s grasp and sitting beside him.

“I don’t know if I’m much in the mood for music, Princess Myrcella,” Ayleth said, her gaze turning from the Summer Sea to look at the blonde haired Princess.

“I insist, Lady Ayleth,” she replied and there was no way that Ayleth could deny her. Princess Myrcella had a way with stringing her words together and playing the lute, something she excelled at more than any of the other womanly arts, and she loved to play and sing. Ayleth gave a small nod, glancing over to Trystane to see him watching Myrcella with a small smile. He loved to watch her sing and play just as much as Myrcella liked singing and playing. The statuesque woman stepped away from the window and leaned back upon a small table beside the window, diverting her gaze to the ground in case her emotions started to flood forth once more. She had once prided herself on how well she could hide what she was feeling, but lately, it seemed that it was all she could do to try and stop them.

Myrcella tuned the lute for a moment before clearing her throat delicately and started to play. The song was a somber one, a tone that reflected the way that Ayleth’s life had gone thus far. Perhaps, Ayleth had been wrong in telling Myrcella so much about her relationship with Jaime, since it gave her the inspiration to write such a song. The song nearly lay everything about their relationship bare, without divulging names, of course. The Princess drew in a deep breath of air and began to sing, her voice clear and sweet, resonating against the high ceiling of the room.

" _These scars long have yearned for your tender caress_

_To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own_

_Rend my heart open, then your love profess_

_A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone._ ”

Ayleth blew out a heavy, shaking sigh as she kept her eyes glued to a particular stone on the floor. Her eyes slipped shut as she tried to keep herself calm, but the song had just a way to manipulate her emotions and beckon them forth. She did not hear the sound of footsteps approaching the room, nor did she hear when they stopped in the doorway to listen to Princess Myrcella sing.

“ _You flee my dream come the morning_

_Your scent - orchids tart, lav’nder sweet_

_To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy_

_Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep._ ”

Tears slowly slipped from Ayleth’s closed eyes, her fingertips coming to wipe away the tears hastily and she turned back to the window. She did not want Myrcella and Trystane to see how much the wear of the day and the song was affecting her.

“ _I know not if fate would have us live as one_

_Or if by love's blind chance we've been bound_

_The wish I whispered, when it all began_

_Did it forge a love you might never have found?_ ”

By this time, Myrcella had picked her gaze up from the lute, staring at the back of the woman she had come to care deeply for before sweeping to the figure that stood in the doorway, who looked shaken by the words and tone of the song. A small sad smile curled her lips as she continued to sing, closing her eyes as she lost herself in the last chorus.

“ _You flee my dream come the morning_

_Your scent - orchids tart, lav’nder sweet_

_To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy_

_Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep._ ”

No one moved or say anything until the last quivering notes of the song faded from the air. Trystane shared a glance with Myrcella and they both gave a small nod, standing and striding past the figure in the doorway. Myrcella shared a small smile with the figure before striding down the corridor with Prince Trystane at her side.

“You told her about us?” The figure questioned and Ayleth, who had been taking in slow, deep breaths of the sea-salt air outside the window, spun wildly to face Ser Jaime Lannister, who had not moved from his spot by the door. Hastily, she wiped away the wet tracks of tears on her cheeks, sniffling softly as she took a moment to study him. His gaze was soft, almost comforting in a way and his posture was relaxed. It was clear he was not here to pressure her into giving answers.

“I did,” she replied softly, once she trusted herself to speak, “I’m quite close with your niece. In fact, I’m the only female companion she has around the Water Gardens now. She’s a beautiful, charming young woman and Trystane is enamored of her and her of him.” Jaime merely nodded, emerald eyes roaming over the radiant, yet broken woman before him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a few steps into the room, eyes locked on hers. A heavy sigh left the woman as she brushed her tendril of hair that had escaped its plait behind her ear, her amethyst eyes never leaving his.

“I’m much better now, thank you,” she replied, her hand coming to rest over the wound she’d been dealt by Tyene, just below her elbow. They shared a few, long moments where they merely watched the other, waiting for the other to move or speak first. There was much hanging in the air between the two of them, so much left unsaid, and it was nearly suffocating the woman. “Have a seat, Jaime. I suppose I have a few things to explain to you,” she said softly, motioning toward the chaise off to the side of her room. On the other side was a small bed, fit for only a single person, and an armoire. Both of her swords laid on the foot of the neatly made bed, ready for use if she needed them.

Jaime slowly made his way over to the chaise lounger, swallowing hard as he lowered himself down onto the cushion. Ayleth kept her eyes on him before slowly stepping over to him, sitting down beside him closer than what could ever be deemed proper. She reached out and grasped his hand in hers, her eyes remaining on his knuckles for a moment before she lifted his eyes to meet his. He was staring at her so earnestly, so caring, that it nearly brought her to tears once more, but she stayed herself.

“My departure from Kings Landing, as you might have guessed, was not an easy one,” she said and Jaime’s eyes darted to the new, bright scar along her jawline. “I’m sure you know the feeling, of having to keep off of the road and hiding in shadows when you hear the gallop of a couple dozen horses flying in your direction,” she said, a wry, mirthless smile curling the corner of her lips for a moment. “It took me months longer than it should have to return to Sunspear. Most of the men I happened to encounter on my way…were unkind and lecherous.” Panic rose in Jaime’s eyes and Ayleth quickly shook her head, knowing where his mind had went. “No, Jaime, they didn’t…most of them were dead when I left them, if not mortally wounded, and only one ever got a hold of me.” She lifted her hand to the scar at her chin before her hand fell to her lap. “His insides became his outsides before he could even get his breeches down.” She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard.

“Good,” he said in a tight voice.

“It didn’t take me to long to realize that I was…with child. Moons passed and came and my belly grew very little, but he was there and I knew it,” she continued, eyes growing watery once more. Jaime’s hand tightened slightly around hers, expression tense as he knew he would not like the direction in which her story was going.

“He?” He questioned softly and Ayleth nodded slowly.

“Yes, _he_ ,” she breathed, nostrils flaring for a moment as she closed her eyes and regained the strength to speak. When she reopened them, she immediately locked eyes with Jaime, reaching out her other hand to tentatively rest on his jaw.

“Prince Doran was very kind to me when I finally got back and very concerned when they took note of my…condition. I was well cared for her, but I suppose it was too little, too late. Myrcella stayed by my side constantly, asking me to tell her stories about Kings Landing and Starfall and any tales I knew. Ellaria and any daughter of Oberyn would not so much look in her direction when the news of Oberyn’s death had reached them and I supposed she missed a woman’s company. Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed it, being I am now sworn to protect her, but we are quite good friends,” Ayleth said, nodding slowly as she took note of the faint smile on Jaime’s lips at her words before it fell. She swallowed hard, licking her lips before continuing.

“He came too soon…probably the stress of my journey, lack of proper nutrition when I was hiding in the countryside, or maybe my womb or the gods did not want to invite another bastard child into the waking world,” she continued, her voice growing thin and shaky. “Myrcella was one of the few who would help me. She held my hand, pressed a cool cloth to my forehead, and whispered soothing things in my ear to help me get through the long, painful labor. But so help me, the look on her face when she saw the little boy, our little boy, with his head full of soft golden curls and his bright green eyes…I knew I had to tell her everything about…us. He…looked so much like you.” Ayleth let her hand drop from Jaime’s jaw, drawing in a shaky breath of air as tears slipped down her cheeks. Jaime felt his stomach drop as she spoke, jaw tight and eyes prickling with tears. It was as he had feared, but with this knowledge there came a sense of relief; the child had been his, not some man that took advantage of her on the road or anyone else. She squeezed her eyes shut as hot tears found their paths down her face. Quickly, she brushed them away, opening her eyes and staring down at the floor beneath them as she continued in a thin, quivering voice. 

“He was so…little. Too little. He barely cried and, when he did, it was too quiet. All night after he was born, I held my little boy, our little boy, against my chest. I watched as he struggled to breath, as his lips turned blue, and…and…” A soft sob left her lips and she pulled her hand from Jaime’s, clasping it over her mouth as large tears rolled down her cheeks and she did nothing to clear them. By now, Jaime was crying freely—crying for the child that was and could have rightfully been his and crying for the pain he could feel radiating off the woman beside him in waves. “He lived for a day and a half, and he fought to live…but it just wasn’t enough. Prince Doran was kind enough to allow me a small plot to bury him in, out near the sea, but I haven’t had the heart to go back since we buried him.”

Jaime was at a complete loss of words, shaky breaths of air leaving him as his mind was reeling from her admission. Instead, he did the only thing that came to his mind and wrapped his arms around Ayleth and pulled her into him, tucking her head to his chest. Her shaking hand came to rest at his knee as she leaned into him, breathing in a scent that was so distinctly him and he was calmed once more by the smell of orchid and lavender that lingered in her hair.

“He was so beautiful, Jaime, and he gave me some sort of purpose to my life…however short a life he lived. If I had known I was…” ‘ _pregnant_ ,' her mind finished, her tears spilling onto his jerkin. “I-I would have never done…” ‘ _what I did that day to Gregor Clegane_ ,’ her mind finished again as a heavy sigh left her and Jaime merely pressed his lips to her hair, pulling her closer and drawing in a deep breath of air.

“I know, Ayleth,” Jaime breathed, sniffling slightly against his tears “I know. I blame you for nothing and you shouldn’t blame yourself either.” Another soft sob left her, her hand tightening on his knee for a moment before relaxing. The both stayed quiet for the longest time, Jaime holding Ayleth close and Ayleth leaning against him. Eventually, Ayleth pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him. He looked down at her, emerald eyes darting between vivid amethyst ones that glistened with tears.  Tentatively, he lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips across the remnant of tears on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Jaime whispered, “I’m sorry for everything. I-” He was quickly quieted by the gentle press of Ayleth’s fingertips against her lips and a slight shake of her head. Her hand quickly moved, her thumb moving to trail across the tears that lay scattered on his cheeks, wiping the moisture away.

“May I speak frankly with you, Jaime?” She asked softly, her palm falling against his cheek, feeling the faint tickle of stubble against her pinky finger.

“Of course,” Jaime replied in an equally soft voice.

“Perhaps…if we led different lives, if knights were allowed to have children or marry…I think I very much would have liked to have had your children, maybe even have been your wife,” she said, a sad sort of smile curling her lips.  She drew in a deep breath of air, her hand sliding from his jaw, down the side of his neck, to rest her fingertips just under his jerkin at the crook of his neck. “I know to entertain ideas like this are foolish, but I see us as equals—far beyond our mere martial prowess. I guess…what I’m trying to say…if I don’t ever get the chance to say it…” She paused for a long time, her eyes darting between his as she tried to wager what his reaction was going to be. But, before she could speak, Jaime spoke first.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter's dialogue is based off of the dialogue in the show. And I'd imagine that Ellaria and the Sand Snakes have a good quantity of the antidote to the Long Farewell, which is why Ellaria was apt to saving Ayleth. Also, the song that Myrcella sings is actually from The Witcher 3. It's called The Wolven Storm and it's beautiful, look it up if you so wish to do so. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Jaime kept tucked away in Ayleth’s room for the remainder of the day and all that night. It had not been his intention in visiting her room, to be welcomed into her bed, but that was just the way things had happened. They took their dinner in her room and spoke cordially with each other, trying to keep their minds away from all the bad that had happened to them in recent events. After Jaime’s admission, Ayleth had happily replied and then they both figured that they should push away everything else and just focus on the time they had, alone and together.

The blonde knight found himself in Ayleth’s bed, having fallen asleep after they tangled themselves heatedly in the sheets. He slept for a little while before waking up to find Ayleth was not in bed, but standing at the open window. Jaime turned his head to watch the woman, who was completely bare and resting her elbow on the sill and her chin on her closed fist. A cool breeze rolled into the room, ruffling her hair as she drew in a deep breath of air. It was early morning, Jaime could tell by the blue light that filtered into the room, but there was also a roll of thunder in the distance, so one could guess that a storm was on the way. His sleep bleary eyes wandered over the woman’s form, battle hewn and muscle where she needed it, but also soft in places that it counted. She was very much equal parts warrior and equal parts woman. 

He also noticed that her brow was wrinkled with deep thought, lips pursed slightly as her eyes were focused on something in the distance. Lighting flashed a few times, illuminating her features in bright white light, before the room fell back into the grey-blue it had been before. Thunder rumbled again and this time it vibrated the floor and bed; the storm was moving closer.

“I think I realized now why you Daynes are called ‘Stony Dornishmen’. If you sit stagnant for much longer, you’ll turn into a statue,” Jaime drawled softly and hoarsely from the bed, rolling over finally and propping his head up with his hand. Ayleth’s bright violet eyes snapped over to him as her expression relaxed slightly and a slight smirk curled her lips. She ran her fingers through her hair before resting her chin in her palm. Her eyes slowly roamed over him as she drew in a deep breath of air.

“I wouldn’t make for a very pleasant statue,” she said softly, a small smile threatening to curl her mouth.

“No, you would,” he retorted, a crooked grin curling his thin lips, making him look all the more lion-like. “You would make a glorious statue. Something befitting of a sept, to be idolized and worshipped; to be placed somewhere between the Warrior and the Maiden.” Ayleth shot him a playfully disapproving look, her bright eyes narrowing at him. “Of course, we’d have to cover those breasts of yours up. I’d imagine they’d be terribly counterproductive to any man trying to keep his thoughts pure and pious.” The woman heaved a sigh, regarding Jaime with an amused look as thunder rolled once more. 

“What do you know of pure and pious, Jaime?” She asked in a low voice, raising a brow as a wolfish grin curled her plump mouth, one that was so reminiscent of the young woman Jaime had met in the royal gardens. “And why would I be placed closer to the Maiden when I am definitely not remotely close to being like the Maiden,” she said, a light laugh leaving her.

“Definitely not,” Jaime retorted and was met with a playfully sharp look.

“You best be thankful I’m a Dornish woman and take no offense to being seen as promiscuous,” she shot back at him and a light laugh left him. Ayleth turned and leaned back against the windowsill, bare back to the window as the overwhelming smell of rain wafted into the room. A storm was coming, if it wasn’t evident by the more frequent flashes of lighting and louder booms of thunder. Jaime’s eyes wandered over her form as he drew in a deep breath of air. 

“And while I may not be much for the Faith, certainly not pure and pious, I know how to worship you and your body well enough,” he said, eyes darkening slightly as they roamed over the bared body of the woman he grew to care so much about.

“That you do,” she murmured with a wry sort of grin, eyes flickering over what she could see of him before she caught his eyes. She drew in a deep breath of air as a rush of wind pressed against her back, her collar-bone length hair floating around her head for a moment. Jaime kept his eyes on hers, breathing softly, relaxed against her bed, as the storm closed in on the Water Gardens. Then, without much warning, the sound of the hiss of rain against the building filled the room and the temperature dropped sharply and moisture filled the air.

“Come over here,” he beckoned softly, eyes never leaving hers. She pushed her hair out of her face and stepped away from the window, feeling a slight amount of moisture from the rain at her back as she made her way back over to the bed. Jaime propped himself up against the headboard, the silken sheets gathered in bunches around his waist as his eyes followed her closely. As she stopped beside the bed, his side of the bed, he offered her his good hand to help steady her as she carefully lifted herself to the bed. One of her long, lithe legs found their way on one side of this hips and the other followed suit as she settled herself on his hips, straddling his waist. His hands went to her thighs, one gold, one flesh as he let his eyes wander her up close.

There was still something in her eyes, deep thoughts that had kept her up and out of bed, and Jaime wanted to know what she was thinking. He lifted his good hand to her chin, thumb brushing against her bottom lip and trailing gently down her new scar. Her lips parted slightly in instinct, breath catching in her throat at the tender way in which he touched her and spoke.

“What’s got you so thoughtful?” He asked softly, emerald eyes meeting amethyst as she drew in a deep breath of air and let out a heavy sigh.

“There will be nothing left for me here; with Princess Myrcella and Prince Trystane in King’s Landing,” she murmured, eyes growing sad as her hands fell against his sides, fingertips sliding against his skin.

“You don’t intend on staying with them?” Jaime questioned, confusion wrought on his features. Her fingertips tightened gently against his skin, bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes darted between both of his.

“You know I can’t show my face in King’s Landing…not after what I did. It’d be a certain death,” she said softly, shaking her head a bit. Realization dawned on Jaime and he let his eyes slip shut and he nodded once, his thumb brushing back and forth on the top of her thigh. 

“Will you at least be sailing back with us?” He asked, pulling his eyes open to find her staring down at him.

“I will, but I will sail back to Dorne as soon as I know they’re both safe,” she replied. It was Jaime’s turn to sigh heavily this time, eyes slipping from hers to look up at the ceiling. Ayleth’s mouth twisted to the side as she watched him and her hands left his waist as she leaned forward. Bracing her forearms above his head on the headboard, she came face-to-face with him, giving him no other choice but to look at her. One of her hands brushed softly through his hair, letting the short strands weave through her fingers. It was a motion that soothed both of them, if only for a moment.

“You know I would want nothing more to stay with them, to protect them from whatever faces them in King’s Landing,” she whispered, Jaime’s eyes locked on hers and her nose nearly brushed his she was so close to him. His hands slipped up her thighs to rest at her hips, the cool metal of one a stark contrast to the warm skin of the other. “I would love to stay there and continue to train you, to help you feel whole again. But I can’t.” She could feel her eyes burn with tears, nostrils flaring slightly and her cheeks flushing slightly, but she bit them back. She did not want to cry any more. “Believe me when I say, Jaime,” she started in a soft voice, her fingertips brushing gently along his scalp in an action that had him relaxing beneath her, “that when I am with you, I am the happiest I have ever been or will ever be in my sad existence.” 

Jaime merely stared up at her for the longest time, studying the beautiful, brilliant flecks of blue hidden in the bright violet of her eyes, the raven-colored locks that fell in waves to just below the tops of her shoulders, the pale skin that was littered with silvery scars and the occasional freckle that did nothing to diminish the beauty of the woman that held his heart.  Bitterly, his jaw set for a moment as he wondered how it was that he came to inherit such luck—to have loved not one, but two women he would never be able to have, never be able to call his own. Sure, Cersei was his sister and they would forever somehow entwined, but any sort of romantic relationship between the two was done. Ayleth was something completely different; where Cersei was all fire and passion, Ayleth was cool, refreshing, and nurturing. She cared for him deeply, even above herself, which couldn’t be said of Cersei at most times. 

“It’s not fair,” Jaime finally said, feeling quite childish with this admission. A sad smile curled Ayleth’s lips and the hand that had been buried in his thick golden locks slid down his jaw, thumb brushing softly against the corner of his mouth.

“Things rarely are, unfortunately,” Ayleth replied, eyes flickering between between his. Her other hand came to rest on his jaw as well, her fingertips brushed gently at the skin on his jaw. “But we have what little time together has given to us. I might’ve never known true happiness had we not taken advantage of this time.” Her mouth found his softly, a mere gentle brush of lips, more innocent than any of their previous kisses. Their mouths lingered together for a moment before she just barely pulled away. “I love you,” she breathed against his lips and thunder cracked above them as if the Seven themselves knew what they had would never amount to anything.

“And I love you,” Jaime replied before sealing their mouths together with another kiss. Ayleth sighed against the kiss, pressing her bare chest against his. A soft noise left Jaime at the feel of her bare skin against his, his grip tightening slightly on her hip. He braced one of his arms around her back and, in a quick move, he had her pinned beneath him on the bed. He broke their kiss, trailing his fingertips down her cheek as his eyes roamed over her. Her eyes pulled open to meet his adoring gaze, their swollen lips parted ever-so slightly to heave in air. “Let me worship you until we have to leave,” he breathed. There was a beat between the two of them before Ayleth lifted her head and pressed her lips to his again, heatedly. Jaime didn’t even need an answer, as her legs had already wrapped around his waist and her arms were pulling him close.

 

______________________________________

 

The sun was shining mockingly in the sky as they stood on the dock in a stark contrast to the storm that had beckoned in the morning. The Summer Sea lapped at the stone sides as a small, covered tender floated beside them, the water calm. The larger ship was already waiting for them, bobbing peacefully out in open water. Ayleth stood beside Prince Trystane and Princess Myrcella, in her thin leather armor and blades at her sides. She could feel the eyes of three of the Sand Snakes on her as goodbyes were being said and as Myrcella stepped forward to place a kiss on Prince Doran’s cheek. The blonde, young lady took a few steps back.

“We wish you a safe journey,” Prince Doran said, his bright eyes finding Jaime for a moment, who merely nodded once.

“Thank you,” Jaime replied with a grin, green eyes squinting against the bright sunlight. Prince Doran craned his neck to find Ellaria, shooting her a look and a nod that had the woman striding up to Princess Myrcella and taking her arms in her hands. Ayleth immediately stiffened and took a few quick strides to the two of them, stopping just beside Myrcella with a look that dared the woman to try anything. Jaime found himself biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning at how protective the woman was over Myrcella and how untrusting she found Ellaria.

“Forgive me, child,” Ellaria said softly, amber eyes flickering over to meet Ayleth’s hard violet gaze, “I wish you all the happiness in the world.” The woman’s gaze found Princess Myrella’s once more as she leaned forward and Ayleth snapped a hand to the woman’s shoulder. There was a moment where all paused and tension sparked suddenly and weighed heavily in the air as the former paramour and the former guard of Oberyn Martell exchanged a heated and angry stare. 

“Any goodbye you might have for the Princess can be said without much more physical contact, Ellaria,” Ayleth said in a tight voice, gaze not moving from the woman. For a moment, Ellaria looked furious, firing lighting in her gaze before it fell to a false smile and she gave a nod. She batted Ayleth’s hand from her shoulder before shooting another stare to Princess Myrcella then to Prince Trystane before she took a few paces back from the two of them. She shared a look with Jaime before he turned and started down to the ship’s tender. He extended a hand to aid Myrcella down the stairs.

The amethyst-eyed woman from Starfall kept her eyes on Ellaria for a few long moments before turning to Prince Doran and bowing to him. She then turned and followed behind Trystane as he boarded the small boat. Jaime soon joined her, extending a hand to help her onto the boat in an expected move. Still, Ayleth took his hand and met his eyes as she nimbly climbed aboard, placing the look in his eyes as humored and proud, probably from her interaction with Ellaria. 

Jaime’s man, who Ayleth had learned to be named Bronn, was the last to board after exchanging words with Tyene. And the five were soon rowed out to the larger ship waiting for them.

Ayleth was never much for travel by sea. The rocking of the boat annoyed her; she never really ever found her sea legs and it threw off her balance greatly. She also found that after a while, the coast line got a bit monotonous to look at. At least for this journey, she’d have Jaime and Myrcella to talk to and keep herself occupied.

The few weeks travel proved uneventful for them, which Ayleth was thankful for. She found herself liking Bronn a bit more than she thought she would, based off of their first encounter in the gardens. While a bit shady, he seemed loyal enough to the Lannister’s and he had a sharp tongue and wit, and he and Ayleth playfully bantered frequently, which made passing the time upon the boat a lot quicker for all of them. Bronn had a knowing gleam in his eyes whenever he’d spot Ayleth and Jaime speaking to one another, as if he knew about the two of them all along. The two of them knew his suspicions were confirmed when he spotted them climbing from the cargo hold of the ship one night; Ayleth normally pale skin was flushed pink, the front of Jaime’s jerkin was laced up askew, their hair was in a state of disarray, and their lips plump and red. It seemed they had grown comfortable on that boat together, assured that no harm would befall them on their journey from Dorne to King’s Landing.

Jaime and Ayleth stood on the deck one night, staring out at Blackwater Bay after they’d rounded Massey’s Peak. They had maybe a day or two left of sailing before they reached King’s Landing and would have to part ways. They had enjoyed their time on the boat immensely, as they could laugh and joke and flirt with each other openly without chastising eyes or gossiping mouths close by. They fell into the routine of living in such close quarters with each other naturally, like they were meant to be close to each other. However, this night, there was a full moon, illuminating everything with a blue-white light. Ayleth stood beside Jaime, in her light armor with her swords at her sides, her hands resting gently on the wooden railing. He stood beside her, gazing upon the beauty he had been so lucky to be graced with for the past few weeks. She was staring ahead, letting the wind ruffle her hair as she breathed in a deep lungful of salty sea air.

She felt eyes on her and turned her head to look at him, a small smile curling her lips as she reached out and took his golden hand in hers without a word. Ayleth lifted it to her cheek, leaning into the cool metal as she kept her eyes locked on his. Despite himself, a small smile curled Jaime’s lips as he glanced over the ethereal woman in front of him.

Their small reverie was broken by the sound of Myrcella’s sharp scream coming from the cargo hold of the building. Jaime and Ayleth broke apart, their content expressions breaking into ones of sheer terror as Ayleth was the first to turn and bolt toward the cargo hold. Her long legs carried her swiftly down the stairs, Jaime not too far behind her as she finally landed at the bottom of the ship. When she got there, her stomach dropped and her footsteps faltered. Myrcella stood off to one side, clutching a profusely bleeding gash on her arm, but Prince Trystane lay, face down, spread-eagle on the wooden floor. It looked like Trystane had been run through with a lance, a blossom of red blood spreading on the back of his light orange jerkin. An anger like no other flooded through her when she saw Obara and Nymeria standing on either side of the young Dornish prince’s body.

Jaime sped past Ayleth to Myrcella, shielding her slender frame with his as he pushed her into a darker corner of the cargo hold for safety. In a flash, Ayleth had both of her blades drawn and was walking with hard, purposeful steps toward the two dark-haired women. While they may have been skilled, they were no match for Ayleth and she knew she would make quick work of this. Not a word was spoken between the two of them as she easily batted Obara’s lance to the ground as it flew toward her, lodging it into the wooden floorboards. Ayleth landed a kick to the handle, driving it even further into the floor before continuing forward. As Obara struggled to dislodge it, Ayleth zeroed in on Nymeria, who looked genuinely frightened of the woman in front of her.

Ayleth suddenly charged at Nymeria, who took a few stumbling footsteps back, and swung a single blade at the woman. Nymeria cracked the whip as she dodged the blade and it fell against Ayleth’s side, but she didn’t flinch as the leather landed against her leather armor hard. The whip-wielder took another stumble back as the woman from Starfall continued to stalk toward her with an emotionless look on her face. Ayleth lifted both blades to swing. Nymeria swung her whip once more and had it wrap around one of Ayleth’s wrists, but it wasn’t enough to stall her other blade. In one quick, strong swing, the rolled, black Dornish steel sliced through the air and Nymeria’s neck, effectively removing her head from her body. The head flew in one direction and the body collapsed in the other as Obara let out a scream and finally dislodged her lance from the floor.

The Sword of the Morning, the true one, at least, turned to Obara, clearly unfazed from taking the life of someone she’d previously called a friend. Oberyn’s daughter regarded her with a dark look, steeling herself as the murderous violet gaze of Ayleth Dayne rounded to her. The two stood stock-still for a moment and the only noise was the sound of the ship creaking around them and Myrcella’s soft sobs from somewhere off in the cargo hold. Obara lifted her spear and began to twirl it, much like Oberyn used to fight, and Ayleth rolled her wrists, sending Dawn and her other blade swirling through the air. With a yell, Obara lunged at Ayleth, lance aimed for her chest. Ayleth locked her sword underneath the blade of the lance and lifted it high into the air, forcing Obara to take a step closer to her.

Ayleth kneed Obara hard in the ribs, surely breaking a few of them before pushing the lance and Obara away. The Sand Snake staggered backwards, gasping for air and clutching at her ribs before pushing the pain aside and regaining her wits about her. She swung her lance at Ayleth’s shins and the woman deftly leapt over the blade before planting her feet firmly back on the ground beneath her. It was her turn to swing and she battered at Obara with a deluge of slashes with her dual blades. They were coming so quick and hard that Obara had to take quick steps back until she backed into a support beam and found herself trapped. 

With a quick flick of one of her blades, Ayleth slashed at Obara’s cheek, then the outside of her calf with the other that left a much deeper cut than the one on her cheek. It was enough to stagger Obara that she didn’t see Ayleth lunging toward her with Dawn and plunge it into her chest, just under her ribcage, and into the wooden beam behind her. Her mouth opened to let out a scream, but it just came out as a loud, wet gurgle before her eyes went hazy. Obara’s head fell forward and her body went limp, Dawn being the only thing that held her seemingly lifeless body up. 

Ayleth took a few shaky steps back, chest heaving and body splattered with blood. Jaime slowly led Myrcella from the spot he’d hidden her in, shielding her with his own body. A soft noise left the warrior woman as she looked down at Trystane, pain flashing across her features as she collapsed to her knees. Her trembling hand went to touch the wound at Prince Trystane’s back but she thought against it. Carefully, she rolled him over and pulled him onto her folded knees. His lifeless, dark eyes gazed unfocused up at the ceiling above them, lips parted slightly and a fresh trickle of blood making its way from the corner of his mouth down his cheek.

Myrcella let out a rather loud sob at the sight, Jaime standing behind her, absolutely gob-smacked at everything that had unfolded so quickly. Ayleth’s eyes shot to Myrcella as she knelt on the other side of Trystane, her pale hands coming out to rest at his arm and his cheek. She looked rather pale and her arm had yet to stop bleeding, heavy tears cascading down her cheeks. The warrior woman looked behind her to find Jaime watching her with a worried expression, a grim look in his eyes. She had to stay strong for Myrcella, she would be of no help if she broke down in front of her.

Without a word, she gently slipped the Prince’s body from her lap, lifting her hand to gently pull his eyelids shut before glancing around the room. She spotted a clean swath of cotton in one of the crates and she stood, walking over to it on unsteady legs. Ripping a generous-size of the fabric off, she walked back over to Myrcella and knelt beside her. Silently, she wrapped the wound on the Princess’ arm; it would at least help staunch the bleeding until they could get it properly seen to. As she tied a knot on the bandage, her eyes were drawn to Trystane once more.

The two women sat there in silence for the longest time side-by-side, Myrcella still sobbing quietly and Ayleth wiping steadily at the silent tears that streaked her face. Jaime stood silently behind the two of them, many questions  swirling in his mind, but he knew it would be indelicate to ask them at a time such as this. It hurt him to see Ayleth and Myrcella in such a state, especially to see young love ripped away from his “niece” at such an early age.

“You have no idea how sorry I am for not being here, Princess Myrcella,” Ayleth said in a soft, quivering voice, her eyes focused on Prince Trystane. She blinked hard, sniffling against the tears before blowing out a deep breath of air.

“We just wanted to have a quiet moment before bed, alone. We’d stolen away here plenty of times before…but…they came out of nowhere,” Myrcella said in a voice thick with tears and sorrow. “You wouldn’t have known we needed protecting, Lady Ayleth.” The older woman let out a shaky breath of air, her gut weighing heavily with the guilt and grief of letting another Martell prince die under her protection. “They asked who he wanted to be killed by, told me not to make a noise,” the Princess continued, eyes focused on Trystane’s deathly gray face. “He picked Nymeria, but when he turned to her and drew his blade…Obara…” Her face crumpled with tears once more and Ayleth found the Princess leaning against her—she didn’t need to finish for Ayleth to figure out what had happened then. The warrior woman did what only came natural and wrapped her arms around her, cradling the fragile Princess close as she sobbed against her shoulder.

The Princess cried again for the longest time and Ayleth was sorry that she’d even said anything to bring it up. The woman’s eyes slipped up to Jaime’s as she held Myrcella and they shared a look. Their eyes remained locked until Myrcella’s sobs turned into what sounded like gasping and choking and panic flooded them once more. Ayleth pulled the Princess from her shoulder and found her eyes were wide and scared, blood slipping from her petite nostrils. Ayleth stared down at her for a few moments in bewilderment before her sharp mind put the pieces together; the cut on Myrcella’s arm and the poison with which Obara or Nymeria must have doused their blades in—if Nymeria brought a dagger. Her mind was reeling from her experience with the poison, trying to recount the events that prevailed. Ellaria had poured something in her mouth—an antidote? 

Ayleth came rushing to the conclusion that the necklaces, the necklaces that she’d seen Ellaria, Nymeria, Obara, and Tyene wear must contain the antidote. “Jaime, keep her upright,” she said in a breathless voice and Jaime was quick to kneel beside them and brace a hand against Myrcella’s back. Ayleth shot away from him and stepped over to Nymeria’s body. Her heart plummeted when she saw the tiny vial of the necklace shattered on the floor, more than likely from the impact of her body colliding with the floorboards. “No,” the woman growled before quickly making her way to Obara.

“What’s going on?” Jaime asked, failing to keep the rising fear from his voice.

“They poison their blades. Something far more terrible than the viper venom that Oberyn used,” she said as her eyes roamed Obara and Jaime did not like the sound of that one bit; what could possibly be worse than viper's venom? Roughly grasping at the woman’s hair, Ayleth yanked her head back, eyeing her barren neck as her lungs tightened. There was a soft musical thud and Ayleth took note of a sparkle of gold on the floor. She knelt quickly and lifted it, noting the metal was crushed around the blue vial; Obara must have wrapped her hand around it tightly in one last act of hatred. There was a hairline crack down the side of the glass and the liquid was slowly leaking out, but there could still be enough to save Myrcella.

Ayleth all but threw herself to the ground beside Myrcella and Jaime, fighting to free the small vial from the metal. Myrcella had gone terrifyingly still, eyes still wide open and sweeping between Jaime and Ayleth. All Jaime could do was watch in horror as his “niece”, his daughter, gasped for air, shuddering in his arms as blood dripped from her nose. He was drawing in quick breaths of air, silently pleading to whichever of the seven gods that may have been listening to grant Myrcella their mercy and to let her live.

“Hold on, Myrcella,” Ayleth pleaded softly, fingertips shaking and frantically prying at the metal as she watched the liquid flowing from the crack in the glass and drip into her hands. Finally, she gave up and lifted the crushed gold necklace and the cracked vial above Myrcella’s mouth, hoping the drops would fall quick enough to save her. Ayleth and Jaime watched with bated breath as one drop fell into Myrcella’s mouth, followed by another. But before the third fell, Myrcella let out a low noise that rattled in her throat and Ayleth felt cold at the noise. She knew exactly what that noise meant as the lights left her eyes and her body went limp.

“No,” the woman breathed, tears balancing on her eyelashes as she stared down in horror at Myrcella. “No,” she repeated, chest twisting painfully as she grit her teeth. Her breaths came in sharp, quick gasps as she lowered the necklace from Myrcella’s mouth, dropping it to the floorboards beside her as hot tears rushed down her cheeks. She shook her head as her lips trembled and a sob ripped from her throat. 

Jaime and Ayleth remained in the cargo hold for what seemed like hours, motionless as they soaked in the events that had unfurled so quickly and led them to this moment. Bronn found them there and it was all he could do to pry Ayleth and Jaime away from the bodies of Prince Trystane and Princess Myrcella. Eventually, he managed to get them away and have the bodies, all of them, taken care of by the crew and stowed away in rooms and out of plain sight. 

Ayleth stood on deck for the rest of that long night, eyes gazing out at the water beneath them. Once Jaime had taken a moment alone with Myrcella to peacefully say his goodbye before the onslaught that was sure to happen once he arrived at King’s Landing, he made his way back to the deck and stood beside Ayleth, who didn’t acknowledge his presence beside her. Jaime finally risked a glance to the woman, the tracks his tears had taken down his cheeks had dried and were tightening uncomfortably. He ran his hand over his face, blowing out a heavy sigh as he leaned against the railing beside Ayleth. The woman was staring ahead blankly, her shoulders slumped and head bowed slightly as she took in slow, regulated breaths of air.

“Ayleth,” Jaime said in a broken voice, hoping to gain her attention. The woman merely kept looking forward, blinking every now and then. “Ayleth, look at me.” Silence lingered between the two of them as he watched Ayleth swallow hard.

“I’ve failed them…” was all she said, her voice a mere whisper. “I’ve failed all of them.” She cupped a hand over her mouth, eyes emotionless as she finally brought them up to meet Jaime’s gaze.

“You had no idea this was going to happen,” he replied, trying to have her not shoulder the blame like he knew she would. An emotion flashed in her eyes at his words—one that Jaime could not place. She merely looked away, the images of Prince Trystane and Princess Myrcella’s cold bodies would forever be emblazoned in her memory. A few long moments passed quietly between the two of them before one of them spoke next.

“Prince Trystane’s body belongs in Dorne, with his father. I’ll escort him back,” she said in a soft voice, jaw clenching for a moment as she drew in a deep breath of air as her eyes landed back on Jaime’s. “But I swear to you, here and now, when I return to Sunspear, I will get my vengeance for both of them and both of us when I return. No amount of poison or persuasion can stop me,” she continued, drawing in a deep breath of air as her eyes slipped shut and her hands tightened slightly on the wooden railing in front of her. The cool night breeze blew past them and Jaime watched the woman closely before speaking once more.

“We’re parting ways again,” Jaime said and Ayleth’s eyes met his once more and he saw the resolution and anger in her gaze, though it quickly softened when he noticed the way he was looking at her. They knew it was wrong to grow so attached to each other, to admit their love, or to feed into the ideas that they could perhaps find some way to stay together for good.

“We knew it would happen…once we reached King’s Landing,” she replied, ever the realist, and they held each other’s gaze. The woman’s eyes softened even more as she watched Jaime, reaching out to place a hand at his jaw when she saw the pained expression on his features. She swallowed hard once more and sighed heavily, lips beginning to tremble and eyes welling up once more. Jaime found his eyes prickling with tears once more and he grit his teeth against the feeling, letting his eyes slip shut for the longest time.

“Tell me we will meet again, Ayleth,” Jaime spoke in a voice thick with tears and a soft noise left the woman when she realized what he was doing. He pulled his eyes open to look down at the woman, a woman that was made of stardust and unearthly things and was bathed in moonlight as tears streaked her cheeks. “Even if you have to lie to me,” he breathed and Ayleth broke once more, a soft sob leaving her as her head bowed and her hand slipped from his cheek. She remained quiet for the longest time, her shoulders shaking with tears as she cried openly before him. “Say it,” Jaime pleaded and took her hand in his, tightening his fingers around her cold grip. Her eyes found his once more as she sniffled against the tears that were steadily finding paths down her face.

“We will meet again, Jaime…my love,” she finally replied, gripping her hand a bit tighter for a moment. Though her feelings about their continued meetings had been wrong in the past, there was an edge of finality to their words and they knew this goodbye could be their last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did take quite a few liberties with the way the death's of Myrcella and Trystane played out on the show. The end of this chapter was very difficult for me to write and the next chapter will be an epilogue and the closing of this series. Thank you and I hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

Jaime found himself on his knees in the throne room of the Red Keep, two silent guards flanking either side of him. The large room was filled with hard yellow light from a clerestory of windows, light that seemed to be focused on him and the Iron Throne in front of him. The woman who sat on the mass of soldered swords of enemies was a waif-like thing, dressed in a flowing, deep grey dress. Her hair was a silvery-white and her eyes cut into him like daggers; her presence was one of a woman who knew she had power and knew how to wield it justly and fair. It reminded him a lot of the woman who held his heart—no, not his sister, but the woman from Starfall.

Tyrion sat at her right hand side, watching Jaime with a cautious look. But in between his brother and the new Queen, stood a formidable looking guard. Female, judging by the way the articulated breastplate was shaped over breasts and nipped in at the sides. The woman was lithe and tall and the armor she wore was a dark steel. The pauldrons were adorned with horns, giving the whole armor set a very dragon-like look befitting of a guard of the Dragon Queen. But what really pulled the whole intimidating look together was the helm; it was sharp and angular, a row a horns down the top of it, and it shadowed all-but the jaw of the wearer. This Queen’s guard was a stark contrast to the Unsullied guards that stood beside him.

“Ser Jaime Lannister,” the Queen started, eyes set on him sharply and knowingly, “I have brought you before me to answer for your crimes against the House Targaryen and my father, King Aerys. What have you to say for this?” Jaime swallowed hard, lowering his eyes from the woman as his manacled hands—one golden, one flesh—shifted uneasily in front of him. 

“I have nothing to say that you already have not heard, your Grace,” he replied in a soft voice, lifting his eyes from the polished floor before him to meet the Queen’s gaze once more. Her mouth pressed into a thin line as she regarded Jaime with her sharp, knowing gaze.

“All the same, Ser Jaime, I’d like to hear it…truthfully. Why would a knight sworn to protect my father above all else would plunge his sword through his King’s back?” Her voice was calm, controlled, but her gaze was alight. Jaime was testing her patience, he knew. He set his jaw, halfway tempted to admit the truth to all in this room, to say aloud what few knew. But he’d kept up the charade for so long—Ser Jaime Lannister, the calloused, cruel, and cold Kingslayer. 

He had nothing left. His father was dead. His sister was dead. His children were dead. His brother had chosen his side. And the woman that mattered most to him now had not been heard of since her ship sailed back to Dorne with the body of Prince Trystane. He had nothing left and he cared not if he lived or died. Death would be preferable and, so, he made his choice.

“I…I have…committed treason of the highest account. I betrayed my King, your father. He said something I didn’t like and I plunged my sword into his back, as simple as that,” Jaime replied with a short shrug of his shoulders, his Lannister armor clanking and shifting with the movement.

“‘As simple as that’,” the Queen repeated tightly, her expression growing more sour by the second. She regarded Jaime with those eyes that grew sharper by the minute, motionless as she sat in the Iron Throne. Jaime risked a glance to his younger brother, finding his gaze lacked any sort of urgency or silent pleading for Jaime to tell the truth. In fact, Tyrion looked rather relaxed in his chair, amused almost, and Jaime felt the sting of rejection from a family member that Tyrion must’ve felt for all of his existence. The female guard at the Queen’s side leaned over to the silver-haired ruler’s ear and whispered something that Jaime could not hear.

“Tell me, Ser Jaime, why my head of Queen’s Guard is so adamant to tell me you’re lying?” Queen Daenerys spoke in a strong, clear voice. Jaime’s eyes darted to the dark-shadowed guard beside the bright, silvery Queen. 

“I have no idea who your guard is to presume that they know me. The guard is the one that’s lying. I’m guilty of murder…and the worst sort of murder at that,” Jaime quickly replied, his earthy emerald eyes slipping from the guard to the Queen. Her expression was softening slowly, beginning to mirror Tyrion’s more and more. It was like there was some sort of knowledge they shared that Jaime did not. Either that, or they were both more than happy to see his head roll. So be it, Jaime was quite done with living.

“Perhaps, I should introduce my Lady of the Queen’s Guard to you, Ser Jaime, and why I’m more apt to trust her word over yours,” the Queen said, a small smile curling her lips. “The woman beside me sees potential in you and Lord Tyrion has lacked a guard as of late. She says you'd make a fine fit for protecting your brother and he agrees whole-heartedly.” Jaime’s eyes found his brothers and Tyrion was watching him with a grin. The blonde knight was growing more confused by the second, knowing this was some trick they were playing on him. They were going to kill him regardless.

“My Lady of the Queen’s Guard proved herself very early and I’ve found her to be most trustworthy. The woman beside me successful overthrew and ended a coup in Dorne led by Ellaria Sand. She ruled the country in the stead of a proper Martell heir until the people decided who would be fit to rule. Dorne, as you know, was the first to pledge allegiance to me, because of her trust in me and her words with the new Dornish ruler.” As the Queen spoke, Jaime found his eyes draw to the guard, trying his hardest to peer past the shadows and see who dared think they knew him and knew that he was lying about his reason for killing the Mad King.

“She pledged herself to my cause in taking King’s Landing and followed me here, where she slew the grotesque, dark-magic reanimated corpse of Gregor Clegane, single-handedly, I might add,” the Queen continued, her sharp, shrewd eyes piercing through Jaime. “She showed no mercy to those who might seek to destroy what I had fought so hard for and I knew then she was worthy. I seek her not only for protection, but guidance when I need it.” Jaime tore his eyes away from the guard and brought his gaze back to the Queen.

“Still, this woman’s accomplishments do not atone for what I have done. I killed your father. Does that not merit me losing my head?” Jaime questioned, noting the unflinching expression on the Queen’s fair face as he spoke. She drew in a deep breath of air, leaning forward slightly in the Iron Throne. This was it, Jaime knew, this would be when she’d order his head from his shoulders.

Jaime swallowed hard and he merely stared back at the Queen, brow furrowed and mouth pressed into a thin line. “Perhaps…I should just let my guard deal with you, instead,” she said with a knowing grin before turning to her guard and giving her a nod. The Lady of the Queen’s Guard nodded in return before turning to Jaime and he could just make out a grin on the guards features before she stepped forward and into the bright, yellow light. Jaime could see nothing of her features as she descended the stairs that led to the Iron Throne and toward him.

He could hear the soft clanks of the metal armor the guard wore and the crack of her boots against the polished floor. Jaime kept his eyes on the imposing silhouette as they drew near, the black cape with red-trim fluttering behind the guard as she stepped toward him. He bowed his head, his eyes cast to the floor beneath him as he waited for a sting of a blade against the back of his neck then sweet nothingness.  The woman stopped in front of him, the shiny greaves she wore over her boots and shins reflecting brightly into his eyes for a moment. Jaime drew in a deep breath of air as she took a step to his right, circling around him slowly.

It was then that he smelled it, the faint scent of orchids and lavenders encircling him as the woman moved around him. He stiffened suddenly as his mind reeled to make sense of what was happening. The woman stopped at his left side, just out of his line of sight as he slowly began to make the connection; Queen Daenerys did not mention Elllaria Sand and Gregor Clegane for no reason, she was providing him hints to who stood beside her. He lifted his eyes from the floor and looked over his left shoulder to find the guard had taken her helm off and had it clutched under her arm. Emerald eyes met amethyst and the air rushed from Jaime’s lungs. 

Jaime felt like he was soaring, a renewed drive for life sending him a bit dizzy, or that could have been the statuesque beauty that was Ayleth Dayne standing so close beside him. Seeing her again provided him a reason to live, if only just to live side-by-side, guarding the new Queen that sat upon the Iron Throne and the Hand of the Queen. The woman he loved was watching him with a warm smile, the slight glisten of tears in her eyes. She drew in a deep breath of air, her plump lips parting to form words Jaime was never happier to hear: “We meet again, Ser Jaime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus, we've reached the end. I hope you've enjoyed and thanks for reading!


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